


You Started This Fire (down in my soul)

by Chromi



Series: Oh My God They Were Boyfriends [AceDeuSan Modern AU] [2]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Come Shot, Dom/sub Undertones, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Polyamory, Porn with Feelings, Safe Sane and Consensual, Sexual Roleplay, Teasing, Threesome - M/M/M, sort of kinda maybe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:54:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25805446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chromi/pseuds/Chromi
Summary: “Tonight, I want to try something different.”A simple sentence, one voiced casually over dinner prepared by Sanji. Eyes – gray, blue – flickered up to him, curiosity effortlessly piqued.A weekend off for each of them, work patterns aligning most unusually to grant firefighter, doctor, and chef the right to forget about the world and languish only in each other.A weekend meant, therefore, for them to indulge. To relearn each other’s movements, their voices, their softest, innermost workings.To map; to taste; to feel the prickling heat of love laid bare and open for each other’s eyes only.And those eyes – those eyes that lidded in response to his unashamed jut of his chin, his intention and direction clear beyond doubt – positively sparkled with premature agreement.
Relationships: Masked Deuce/Portgas D. Ace, Masked Deuce/Portgas D. Ace/Vinsmoke Sanji, Masked Deuce/Vinsmoke Sanji, Portgas D. Ace/Vinsmoke Sanji
Series: Oh My God They Were Boyfriends [AceDeuSan Modern AU] [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1872136
Comments: 7
Kudos: 52





	You Started This Fire (down in my soul)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TricksterMel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TricksterMel/gifts).



> Why have two separate ships when you can combine them to make a polyship? Mel's a Galaxy Brain. Thank you dearest for giving me the opportunity to write this ❤
> 
> As usual, it's twice the initially intended length... and no, I'm not surprised by this anymore;;;

“Tonight, I want to try something different.”

A simple sentence, one voiced casually over dinner prepared by Sanji. Eyes – gray, blue – flickered up to him, curiosity effortlessly piqued.

A weekend off for each of them, work patterns aligning most unusually to grant firefighter, doctor, and chef the right to forget about the world and languish only in each other.

A weekend meant, therefore, for them to indulge. To relearn each other’s movements, their voices, their softest, innermost workings.

To map; to taste; to feel the prickling heat of love laid bare and open for each other’s eyes only.

And those eyes – those eyes that lidded in response to his unashamed jut of his chin, his intention and direction clear beyond doubt – positively sparkled with premature agreement.

Deuce took a breath, a punctuated pause, looking from Ace to Sanji and back again, only briefly wondering how best to phrase what was on his mind. The fear was not in his proposal being rejected or scorned; the nudge of doubt hid within his own ability to see through what he craved.

Because oh, yes, did he _want_ to try this.

“It’ll probably be asking a lot of both of you.”

They didn’t care. That much was plain to Deuce – conveyed in the slight rise of Sanji’s visible eyebrow, the subtle incline of Ace’s head to the right. Interested, yes. Worried… no.

“As long as I don’t have to call anyone Daddy, I’m in,” Ace said easily, resting his chin on his knuckles.

“Same here,” Sanji muttered. “We’ve got all night to kill; what’s on your mind?”

He didn’t deserve these men. Didn’t deserve Ace’s open, infectious ability to love without question; didn’t deserve Sanji’s need to pamper, to adore, to spoil.

Because what he was going to ask for would twist and smother down those traits that Deuce loved in his partners, taking from them what came as naturally as the sun brought life, that winter ushered in dormancy.

Another breath; another pause.

Perhaps he was overthinking this entirely too much.

Perhaps it was time to stopper that relentless internal stream of heady prose, his sonnets of love for the pair, tangled up in his own conflicting emotions in the face of their willingness to attempt whatever fancy had taken him.

Deuce exhaled slowly, shoulders relaxing with the motion.

“Okay,” he said with a single curt nod, certainty solidifying, “think this over before you agree.”

* * *

The setup was one of an emotional challenge rather than a physical one. A game of sorts – role-play, Ace had called it with a smirk – that saw Ace and Sanji drop everything that Deuce loved about them and take up entirely different roles for a single night.

For Ace, he was to lose his leadership; that unspoken, generally unnoticed trait where he guided and led them during sex. His natural inclination to _give, give, give_ to them – to love blatantly and wholly through touch – was to be extinguished in favor of denying them what they sought. His generosity silenced; his warm hands kept to himself through the invisible, self-imposed restraints of Deuce and Sanji’s verbal commands alone.

For Sanji, Deuce’s aim was to temporarily rob him of the attentiveness – the excellent server, the flawless host – within him. To stifle the respect and almost overwhelming compassion that came with all of Sanji’s words, movements, thoughts when regarding those who he loved. A different kind of care to Ace’s, certainly, but one that Deuce welcomed just as readily… one that Sanji was now to discard in favor of something more abrasive and crude.

For Deuce, his role was, on the surface, the easiest. There was to be no change to _his_ character, _his_ typical behavior outside of the obedient submission he wielded in response to their personas. He would go along with their flow, accept their changes and their performances, and adapt accordingly.

Not as easy as one might first think; not as simple as Ace certainly seemed to assume, his faith in Deuce’s ability to readjust to their changes tonight one that was practically palpable. Sanji, however, voiced neither confidence nor doubt in Deuce as they undressed in a hurry, fingers slipping through each other’s shirts, belts clinking, hands rubbing rough to adrenalized skin. In himself, yes. In Ace, even, yes. But his thoughts regarding Deuce remained unknown.

But could they do it, though? Could they really slip into roles that did not cater to their own personal needs, giving Deuce what he so selfishly wanted to test?

Deuce certainly thought so.

And so did they, if Sanji’s hand at Deuce’s throat once he settled on the bed was anything to go by.

“You’re not going to touch him tonight,” Sanji growled into Deuce’s ear, his smoke-roughened tone lending him a gratifying edge that Deuce had known he would be able to pull off. “You’re both going to listen to me for a change; you’re going to do as I say. Understood?”

He did – he breathed a throaty moan in response, head tilting back with the delicious pressure of Sanji’s fingers clamped tight to carotids. This was one of Deuce’s aims, getting Sanji to take the initiative, to lead for them to follow, and he couldn’t pretend he wasn’t thrilled by Sanji’s readiness to do exactly what was desired of him.

“Yes,” Deuce sighed, breath stuttering on Sanji’s fingers sliding down to dip at his collarbone, to press uncomfortably _(perfectly)_ to the central ridge where bone met tendon, “I won’t touch him unless y-you, _ah_ —” Deuce’s breath faltered, chest expanding into Sanji’s touch where it slipped lower to gently pinch his nipples as though testing him, “un-unless you let me.”

Sanji’s soft, painstakingly cared for hands – hands of a first-class chef, an exceptional partner – travelled lower still, cascading over Deuce’s abdomen in an almost lazy, unconcerned way that was completely at odds with the usual worship he prided himself in showing.

“Think about what that means before you agree,” Sanji murmured, pressing in warm and close until he was nosing at Deuce’s ear, breath hot and seductive. “Look at him and really consider what I’m telling you to do.”

Deuce complied, felt himself stiffening against Sanji’s thigh as he drank in the sight of Ace over the blond’s shoulder… allowed his gaze to caress lovingly over tanned, parted thighs; drank in the sight of Ace on his back, grinning, aroused, languidly stroking himself with one hand, the other exploring the ridges and bumps of his own muscular abdomen. It was inviting, and it was a sight that practically begged for Deuce to join and lay love to him – and, for that very reason, it was most definitely being done deliberately.

It was a struggle to swallow around his parched throat, tongue feeling foreign in his mouth all of a sudden.

“I’m not going to touch him,” Deuce reaffirmed, breath trembling into a high sigh on Sanji’s kiss to his neck, that gentle touch trailing down further still to brush teasingly close to the base of his half-hard cock.

“Good,” Sanji smiled to the curve of Deuce’s jaw. “You’re not forbidden from touching _me,_ though.” His dark, rumbling laugh shivered through Deuce’s skin as he jumped to attention, the unspoken command prompting him to grasp Sanji by the hips rather than continuing to hold him tentatively by the elbows, unsure of what to do with himself despite being the one to instigate this entire setup. “Keen, aren’t you?” Sanji snickered, yet he sounded appreciative all the same as he drew back, clearly checking out the flush that settled in Deuce’s cheeks. “Well, just wait a little longer, okay?”

And Sanji was gone from his side, moving away to leave Deuce aching for him. Gone, gone, reaching for Ace instead to be accepted into his warm embrace. Deuce watched, the heat that had been bubbling under his skin suddenly spiking to boiling point as Ace parted his lips under Sanji’s, welcoming the slide of his tongue against his own with a low, starved growl.

It was not jealousy that dictated his breath come in short, sharp gasps at the sight of Ace pulling Sanji in, palm to neck, back arching away from the sheets like Sanji’s taste alone was enough to rile him up into that all too familiar fog of lust. It was not the cold, whiny part of himself that caused Deuce to clench his fists into the sheets beneath him when Sanji bent Ace’s knee back, opened him up, slotted in between his thighs like he belonged there – knowing he _did_ belong there.

No – those feelings of doubt, of a fractured self-worth that had initially struggled with the concept of _sharing_ someone he loved, were gone by now. Years of loving them, of being loved back, of learning them as a couple and a trio and individuals alike meant that this scene didn’t invoke the grimmest of emotions in Deuce, someone who, like both Ace and Sanji, was his own worst and most cynical critic.

When Sanji took the bottle of lube from the pillow that Ace had dropped it onto, he spared a glance at Deuce as he coated his fingers, dark grin in place.

“You okay over there?” He asked, the three feet that separated Deuce from his boyfriends insignificant in comparison to the potential rift that his exclusion might have been causing. Deuce nodded earnestly, and his sincerity must have been recognised, for Sanji held his gaze a little longer than a heartbeat before turning his attention back to Ace, flushed and expectant. “Good.”

“Sanji,” Ace breathed, taking Sanji’s lubed hand and guiding it down between his legs, his eyes fixed on Deuce’s face as he did so, “get me ready for him already.”

Deuce’s mind _swam._ Get him ready for _him?_ But Ace was off limits to Deuce tonight. Hell, Ace’s natural inclination to see to it that both Sanji and Deuce were thoroughly taken care of was banned, too, leaving them with this unusual twist of Ace getting laved with attention first for once.

Still, though, despite the confusion – despite how Deuce’s stomach positively cramped with a surge of lust at how _needy_ Ace sounded – he watched, fixated, as Sanji encouraged Ace’s knees to spread even wider, letting Deuce see exactly what he was doing.

There was something suggestive in the smile that Sanji shot at Deuce; something telling that he was privy to a secret that he was bursting to share, by the looks of it.

Ace groaned low on Sanji’s finger breaching him, hips rolling with the contact as he was taken to Sanji’s knuckle in one fluid movement. Out Sanji slid, and up rose Ace’s hips in tandem, fingers twisting tight into the sheets on Sanji’s smooth roll back inside.

Everything was too hot all of a sudden; Deuce’s face _burned_ at the sight of Ace, watching intently as he relaxed with ease despite this _really_ not being the usual pattern they might choose. Generally, Ace didn’t bottom; in fact, Deuce couldn’t even remember the last time he had seen Sanji fingering him, swift in the uptake that Ace wanted _more_ already and easing in a second finger in record time.

“ _Sanji_ ,” Ace moaned, grabbing for him, toes curling against the bed when Sanji’s wrist angled in that telling way, “ _Sanji, there_ , like _that_ —”

He was silenced by Sanji kissing him – not that Ace seemed to mind being interrupted in the slightest. Strong hands flew up from where they had been grabbing at the sheets, fisting into Sanji’s hair, clawing at his shoulder, dragging him in deeper, harder, _hungrier_ than Deuce would have imagined of Ace so early into their night. Not like he could judge; pre-come dripped to the bed between his legs as he shifted uncomfortably, knees bent and legs folded beneath him, waiting.

_Watching._

Urging himself not to groan with a carnal, almost feral urge to break his role and join right the hell in.

As if on cue – as if Deuce’s thoughts had been shouted to the room instead of wrestled back within his mind – Sanji breathlessly broke the kiss and only just managed to turn to look at Deuce. A flash of teeth from Ace was visible before Sanji gasped, his neck assaulted, as he picked up the pace with his wrist, curling and stroking.

“Does it feel good?” Sanji asked in a low, heavy voice, and Deuce could imagine how it must feel against Ace’s lips – almost lost himself to leaning forward expectantly, wanting to _taste_ —“does it feel good when Deuce touches you?”

That caught Deuce entirely off guard. Made him stop breathing, wildly, confused and aroused alike, searching Sanji’s self-satisfied, smug grin that bloomed across his handsome face.

That was one hell of a game to start playing.

And was, apparently, one that Ace was somehow already clued in on.

“Feels amazing,” Ace played right along, arching up into Sanji’s touch yet again, abdominal muscles flexing most deliciously, “feels so good when Deu fucks me.”

It certainly looked like Ace was having a fantastic time, from what Deuce could see – pre-come glistened at his belly already, a droplet of it suspended in mid-air from his flushed head, threatening to drop. His thighs shook on Sanji easing a third finger in, spreading them, angling his wrist to better press eagerly to Ace’s front wall.

Words didn’t seem to be present in Deuce’s vocabulary. Not a single one. He tried, made a valiant effort to say something, to ask where this was going, to make _some_ kind of sense out of their complete change in direction, but all that left him was a gulped, gargled sort of choke.

A tiny, almost snide snort from Sanji removed the responsibility of speech from Deuce, most thankfully. However, when Sanji spoke, pointedly looking at Deuce as he did, Deuce wished he had found his words instead.

“Really?” Sanji said smoothly, ducking back down to kiss Ace’s freckles with a soft, almost condescending manner that made Deuce bristle. “Given how he barely ever tops for us, I would’ve thought he’d make you feel rather shitty.”

“Wha—?!”

Deuce bit his lip around his indignant complaint, remembering too late that _this was part of his request._ _He_ didn’t want Sanji being nice; _he_ didn’t want Ace to dictate the evening. Regardless, though, that stung.

Sanji grinned at him expectantly, clearly waiting for him to finish his sentence. “Am I wrong?” Sanji asked, and, when Ace made a small sound of frustrated protest, he leaned back and away, freeing his left hand to take hold of Ace’s cock and stroke in time with the rhythmic thrusts of his fingers.

 _Funny_ , Deuce wanted to sneer, struggling to concentrate when Ace’s moans pitched higher, more deliberate, _far_ louder than would have been normal for him, _I don’t remember you complaining the last time I had you riding me._

But instead Deuce just smiled back at him – or rather, flashed him a pained grimace, humiliation coursing through his veins.

A distraction came in the form of Ace’s hands disappearing under the pillow, apparently searching for something, giving Deuce the perfect view of his pectoral muscles, his thick biceps bunching.

“Here,” Ace said a little breathlessly, pulling out an anal plug, of all things, from under the pillow. Sitting up as much as he could with Sanji’s fingers buried inside him, Ace caught Sanji by the chin to pull him into a searing hot kiss, wasting no time to nip at his lower lip and pull until Sanji groaned. “Be nice to Deu and put it in already.”

“In me?” Deuce asked, shocked, disappointment filling him so rapidly it drained him of the warmth that had built in his cock, in his body as a whole.

True, he hadn’t asked them for anything specific tonight when it came down to sex… but this whole denial thing was getting tiring fast, the hunger for the pair of them building towards a peak that he wouldn’t be able to assuage no matter what. He wanted to feel them; he wanted to kiss them, touch them, drown in passion and love of a different flavor to their usual favorites. A toy wouldn’t cut it, and Sanji’s bright little laugh was enough to confirm that he knew this, too.

“Not you,” he said a little more dismissively than might have been normal, “no, this is going down here…”

With a pace that bordered on cruel, Sanji trailed the tip of the thick plug down Ace’s body, pausing to draw teasing little circles into the pre-come about his navel.

“Ace is going to put his colorful imagination to good use,” Sanji explained, and Deuce was almost pleased to see the beginnings of a blush dusting his cheeks now, “and he’s going to take this while pretending it’s you.”

“Couldn’t I just—”

Sanji’s eyes flashed as he looked up at Deuce. Deuce held his tongue, knees spreading wider across the sheets in anticipation to a stuttered breath. Fuck Sanji and that _look_ he could pull from nowhere like that.

The tapered head came to rest at Ace’s relaxed entrance where Sanji swirled it around his rim, watching Ace’s face with rapt attention as he did so. “Sometimes,” he said slowly, pausing in his motion to elicit a pained, desperate sound from Ace for him to continue, “its far more sensual to _not_ fuck someone.”

He started to move again, pinning Ace with such an intense look of adoration that it almost made Deuce feel uncomfortable, worryingly. This time, though, it was to press the tip inwards, to breach Ace’s body with the plug and guide him into uttering his most throaty, impatient groan yet.

“Sometimes,” Sanji repeated, his voice shaking slightly atop of Ace’s gasped encouragement, missing how Deuce’s back straightened, his thighs tensed, his cock swelled to leak in response to their boyfriend’s obvious pleasure, “denial is sweeter than gorging on what you crave. And sometimes—” Sanji looked away from Ace and straight at Deuce, his eyes burning with something fierce and _raw_ that made Deuce tremble where he sat, “—being the one to deny you both of what you want is downright _exciting_.”

But he couldn’t deny Deuce of _everything_ that he wanted.

With these words – with that rare, bold assertion that Deuce was certain Sanji would have never demonstrated under normal circumstances – Deuce _throbbed_ for him. Ached. Yearned. Wished with his whole heart that it was _he_ who was spread underneath Sanji, accepting the plug that he was easing into Ace to heated, rushed words of encouragement. Ace’s single-minded mantra of _yes yes yes Sanji ahh fuck that’s so good_ may as well have been Deuce’s at this point – sweat beaded at his temples, his throat feeling swollen on swallowing, as he swore he could almost _feel_ what Ace was, on the verge of experiencing that stretch of the plug coming to rest snug against his own prostate.

It was not until Sanji beckoned him closer that Deuce moved, though. When Sanji was ready – when he had Ace twitching around the thin neck of the base of the plug, rim flushed pink and shiny with lube – Deuce slid into the position he dictated.

His heart felt like it was in his throat as he settled between Ace’s legs now instead. Without thinking, Deuce raised his hands to take hold of Ace’s knees, but he was stopped by the sensation of Sanji grasping at his hips.

“You can’t have forgotten already,” Sanji mouthed to his ear, pressing up behind his back and bringing with him the smell of sex, the sweet tang of his own personal arousal, “that you’re not supposed to touch him?”

He hadn’t.

Ace stretched out beneath him with a cruel grin, pawing at his own chest, gray gaze flickering between Deuce’s deep brown like he was chasing a reaction from him. He must have known – because when did Ace _ever_ miss any of their cues? – that Deuce seriously struggled to keep from gaping like a drunken fool at the sight of his wandering fingers over tanned muscle.

“I don’t understand what you’re doing here,” Deuce confessed, voice coming choked and thin. “Why’s Ace—Why am I— _mnh—”_

The intimately familiar press of Sanji’s cock to his ass had Deuce faltering, hips tilting invitingly without thought, without question, and – ah, yes, a tremor fizzled up Deuce’s spine the moment Sanji’s fingertips touched exceptionally close to his entrance, brushing over heated skin and pulling him apart gently, so very, very carefully. A habit of Sanji’s that he couldn’t completely rid himself of – the call to treat his partners with utmost respect – and one that left Deuce’s heart racing with mismatched affection that battled with how damn turned on he was.

Ace’s eyes blazed below, watching them closely – so much so that Deuce very suddenly felt lightheaded under his scrutiny.

“I’m going to fuck you,” Sanji said pointlessly, rocking his hips to slide up the cleft of Deuce’s ass to a sharp, quick inhale, “and Ace is going to watch.”

Ace grinned suggestively, thumbing along his lower lip in the most enticing of manners.

“I’m gonna have a _great_ time,” Ace purred, running his palms down his abdomen again, arching into his touch – “thinking about you both,” – sliding down further, encircling the base of his erection without touching it, fingers fanned wide – “touching what you can’t have,” – before he took a hold of his shaft in one hand, stroking himself slowly, pointedly, to pull the frenulum taut, for pre-come to pearl at the slit – “stretched _wiiide_ around this plug, wishing it was you, Deu,” – and Deuce could have sworn on his life his heart stopped beating for a moment when Ace teased the flared base of the plug, levering it _up_ against his front wall.

He suddenly became aware he had stopped breathing entirely. The display of Ace’s arousal – the sound of a foil packet being torn behind him, of Sanji blowing a puff of air into the condom he was about to roll down his length – it all hit him in a suffocating cloud stuffed directly into his mind.

“It’s ‘cause you’re so good to us, Deu,” Ace praised, thumbing the head of his cock to make Deuce practically choke on his saliva with need, “you work so hard – all those weird shifts and extra hours – you deserve a night of being taken care of.”

“A night of being lazy, you mean,” Sanji quipped, the lube bottle fetched, the cap popping open in conjunction with Deuce’s pronounced shiver, the irritated click of his tongue when—“ah-ah,” Sanji scolded warningly, taking hold of Deuce’s wrist, “don’t touch Ace.”

“I’m not lazy,” Deuce muttered, rising to the provocation with embarrassing ease, earning a snort from Sanji, “I’m _not_.”

“Of course not,” Sanji cooed, and Deuce had to bite his lip as he felt the head of Sanji’s cock lining up, rubbing slick against where he hadn’t been prepared, he hadn’t been touched, he hadn’t been—hadn’t been _anything_ —“now take a nice, deep breath in for me—”

A flutter of panic thrilled through Deuce at the insistent press against him, realising with sudden clarity that this was not the teasing touch of someone who had any intention of preparing him.

And yet that fear tasted sweet upon lips that failed to hold back a sharp, brittle gasp.

“S-Sanji,” Deuce stuttered, nerves spiking quick enough to bring on static in his vision, “Sanji, you haven’t—I’m not— _Sanji_ —” Deuce tried more insistently when the pressure against him didn’t relent, when his cock treacherously pulsed wet and dripped, narrowly missing the inside of Ace’s thigh.

The smell of tobacco filled Deuce’s senses as Sanji nuzzled in close, a hand to his chest over his heart, steadying him. Calming him instantly. A familiar gesture; the usual way in which Sanji would behave. A kiss was mouthed just below Deuce’s ear at his neck, and Sanji whispered so quietly that there was no way Ace could hear: “three taps and I’ll stop, baby. I’d never do anything that would hurt you.”

Their rule; their protection. Three quick taps to anywhere on any of their bodies, and everything would cease. No questions asked; no judgement passed. Not something that Deuce had ever needed to use – and quite certainly not something he would start using now, either – but the reassurance that Sanji was not aiming to hurt beyond Deuce’s own limits was appreciated.

“You can take him, Deu,” Ace sighed a high, breathy note – Deuce and Sanji both, by the feel of him, swallowed hard as Ace rocked up into his own touch, his fist working his length _so_ slowly it _had_ to be agonising—“you’re so good at taking us – and Sanji will go slow.”

Yes, Sanji would go slow. He silently promised as much in his kiss to Deuce’s temple – in his gradual press of his palm between Deuce’s shoulder blades, encouraging him down to all fours, hips angled, ass raised, primed for inviting and open for Sanji. The fact that he was now barely just a foot above Ace’s cock, so close to Ace’s hips where he caged him between his hands that Deuce could _feel_ the heat pouring off him – it was dangerously close to being too much.

The temptation to touch – to simply drop his face down and lap up the pre-come that coated Ace’s cock, his fist, his balls – was startling. Was instinctive. Was beckoning him with every slide of Ace’s fist from root to tip.

That was, until—

“If you touch him without my say so,” Sanji murmured, stroking lovingly to skin so sensitive Deuce was _sure_ he would be able, if left to it long enough, to come from his touch along his shoulders alone, “we stop. And Ace isn’t going to make it easy for you to resist.”

A frantic nod: the mindless acceptance of their rule – and Deuce was gasping and pressing back against the blunt pressure of Sanji’s cock, his hips taken and guided, stretching him to the fluttering beat of his heart in his mouth.

“ _San—_ ”

His chest felt too tight. His nerves, humming with shock, buzzed from fingertips to toes like nothing before. The ache had Deuce arching back, arching away, unable to make up his racing mind whether this was _good_ or _bad_ or maybe just neither.

“ _S-Sanji—_ ”

He was going to _break_ , going from zero to Sanji’s whole length like this—and _god_ he felt _bigger_ than normal somehow, felt like he was squeezing the air from Deuce’s lungs with each gradual easing of inch after inch. He couldn’t even bury his face in the damn sheets to hide the humiliating fact that he was _panting,_ struggling to swallow the saliva that threatened to drip.

“Nice and easy,” Sanji said with a patronizing little touch to Deuce’s hair, a steadying hand at his hip, and it barely registered with Deuce just how fucking _calm_ Sanji sounded, “you can take me. Keep your eyes on Ace.”

And Ace, below him, began at once, grinning something tellingly satisfied as he deliberately – so, _so_ meanly – cried out in pleasure the moment Sanji’s hips touched flush to Deuce’s ass.

“There,” Ace moaned, perfectly alone in his ministrations, his hips rising just _so_ off the bed into his fist, up closer to where Deuce struggled against seizing lungs, trembling thighs, muscles that protested the demand to adjust and _accept_ that hot, raw intrusion of Sanji’s cock—“ _there_ , Deuce, _oh_ —so _deep_ ,” the base of the plug was pressed on again, Ace’s timing in perfect sync with Deuce’s choked off moan, with Sanji drawing his hips back, back, back, until only the lubed head of his cock tugged at Deuce’s rim, teasing him, leaving him _shaking_ , “y-you’re so deep inside me, I can—” Ace swallowed a pronounced, theatrical gasp, putting on the most erotic show his partners could ever ask for, “I can feel you in my _throat_ , Deu.”

Had it not been for Sanji, Deuce would have given up then and there. Had it not been for Sanji reading his cues – picking up on the sudden bolt on an internal tremor, the minute way in which Deuce’s shoulders sagged in response to Ace’s unabashed moan, how Ace’s head tilted back against the pillow to bare throat and chest and _beg_ to be touched – Deuce would have dropped. Would have pulled the plug from out of Ace and replaced it with fingers, with tongue, with hunger of the likes that was fuelled and encouraged by that next firm, insistent press of Sanji’s cock back in to the hilt.

But Sanji was not going to let him be so weak as to give in to Ace’s seduction. Especially not this quickly.

Fingers twined into pale hair and _pulled_ , arching Deuce’s spine, jerking him backwards to bow taut with a hiss of frustration.

“Look how badly he wants you,” Sanji mouthed to the curve of Deuce’s ear, the threat of his weight bearing down on Deuce’s back one that was read as a _promise_ rather than a _warning_ , “look at how he’s sweating – how he’s asking so _nicely_ for you.” Another kiss to his temple; another betrayal of Sanji’s true character, this little trait likely going unnoticed by him entirely – and Deuce could do nothing but gasp a filthy, longing sound when Sanji added, “don’t you want to help him out?”

Though teasing, he submitted to it. Though planned, staged, ad-libbed and yet instantly mastered, Deuce became the willing victim of Sanji’s taunt.

Sanji’s forehead was warm to his temple where he knocked against it gently, rising up on trembling arms to _feel_.

“ _I want him_ ,” Deuce hissed, “I want—to— _ah_ —touch him.”

It was like urgency was pulsing through his veins, the way in which Deuce yearned to feel Ace against him also. Those hands working Ace’s nipples up to stiffen prominent and enticing should have been _Deuce’s_ – Ace’s moans ones that belonged swallowed down _Deuce’s_ throat, not left to reverberate through the air on his every touch to his own skin.

Ace refused to look away, lidded gaze trained on Deuce’s face, and it was _that_ that made this so overwhelmingly difficult. Not that _he_ could look away – not that Deuce could bring himself to squeeze his eyes shut and pretend that it was just him and Sanji without Ace’s temptation. No, that wasn’t part of the arrangement; making this _easy_ wasn’t the _point_.

They didn’t have to understand why he wanted a shake-up in their roles; _he_ didn’t have to understand it, either. But not one of them could deny that this here… this was _good_.

“Then touch me,” Ace whined, abandoning his nipples to return to stroking his cock in that same slow pace, “all you’ve gotta do is bend down a little, Deu, and put your mouth on me…”

Blunted nails dug into Deuce’s hips on Ace’s cruel invite – nails that warned, that headed off the defiance that had risen through Deuce like a bubble. Before he could do so much as squirm under Sanji’s hold he was released, grabbed up by the shoulders instead to be hauled back, up, _away_.

His shock came as an undignified squeak, but could they really blame him? Up onto his knees Deuce was roughly pulled, and _deeper_ sunk Sanji as an inevitable response, stealing his breath away. It was—it was _intense_ , that stretch, that hard, unyielding pressure _right there_ against his front wall, the angle precise and deliberate, the tilt of his hips guided by Sanji’s to give him his desired slant needed for Deuce to _shake_.

“Ahh,” Sanji sighed, satisfaction rolling through his teeth and into his slow rock against his boyfriend, “you’re so _shameless_ , Deuce.” An arm encircled him, crushing tight, palm rising to slap flat to the center of his chest in a display of blatant claim. “You’re clenching me so _tight_ right now.”

He was, and no, he couldn’t stop the stuttered moan that issued on Sanji finding his rhythm, tilting and bending all the while with learned expertise, taking his time to find the exact angle in this position that would have Deuce losing all sensibility.

However… if anyone was shameless, it was Ace, not him.

“ _Like that,”_ Ace almost sobbed in reaction to the show, knees spreading wider around nothing and no one to show more, to show all, “s’good Deu, like that, _ahh—”_

Deuce had to bite his lip to stop himself groaning, his stomach twisting familiar knots of impending pleasure and oh, _no_ , this was too fast, wasn’t it? But Sanji was _perfect_ , and Ace was pressing on the base of the plug _again._ Pre-come soaked his abdomen, his fist, and Deuce was _certain_ he was going to lose it with how close he sounded, that tell-tale upswing in tone a clear indicator that both of his partners recognised.

Responded to.

Drew restless breaths through clenched teeth as they held fast.

Sanji’s heart hammered against Deuce’s back, his beat echoed through to Deuce’s chest. He was close, _Sanji_ was close too, his pace and his grinding _deepdeepdeep_ so _right_ in combination.

“Jerk yourself off,” Sanji hissed to Deuce’s ear, that smoke-roughened edge causing Deuce to respond with a shiver. “I’m not going to touch your cock.” Sanji grinned against his neck, nose to hair and word to skin, adding, “what’s wrong? Don’t you wanna mess Ace up, make him all filthy with your come?”

A well-placed thrust was enough to force a sharp exhale from Deuce – but he stopped anything else following, any exclamations of shock or disbelief or _yes Sanji I would_ really _like to do that_ by slapping his palms to his mouth, containing it, forcing his silence _._

The brief worry that this treatment of Ace – this total disregard for his wishes – was degrading was struck down almost immediately; Ace’s eyes lit up, his thirst for Sanji’s suggestion glaringly clear and _very_ welcomed.

“See?” Sanji sounded so fucking _pleased_ in his ear, breath laboring as his pace quickened, “he doesn’t mind. Do you, Ace?”

Ace merely shook his head, his abdominal muscles visibly clenching as he rolled his hips up into his fist, feet twisting into the sheets to anchor better. “Hurry up,” he pleaded, and though it was minimal, it was _there_ – that first hint that his composure, the part he was playing so beautifully, was slipping. The flash of teeth between a quickly discarded snarl; the tensing of calves; the furrowing of his brow for barely a second – Ace was close, and he wanted to move on.

And Deuce was, by his very nature, a giving sort of man.

It was easy, losing control – as easy as taking himself in hand, ignoring how wet he was to the touch, and flicking his wrist.

“That’s it,” Ace encouraged, excitement ringing bright and clear through his voice, “that’s it, Deu – Sanji, go harder, _harder_ , fuck it out of him—”

“What do you _think_ I’m doing,” Sanji asked through gritted teeth dangerously close to snapping shut to Deuce’s throat (that Deuce tilted back to bare, offering himself, begging for a bruise to blossom fresh and vivid under teeth and tongue and torment), “ _c’mon_ , Deuce, come for me.”

There were no sarcastic rebukes; no snaps at Sanji’s ability. Not this time. Not tonight. Not now, here, trembling between Ace’s thighs, rubbed so _right_ inside and held tight by love that presented as partners who were willing to do this for him.

Ah, he was a lucky man indeed.

It was with a sob – a sob of Sanji’s name, not Ace’s, interestingly – that Deuce did as he was told, painting Ace’s stomach, chest, the hand that thoughtlessly remained closed around his own cock.

It was _intense_. It struck Deuce to his core, left him breathless and shaking, still upright only by Sanji’s strength in his palm to his chest, his fingers clutching at his hip. Sanji rocked him through it, slowing when that first bite of over-stimulation caused a whine to break free, _surely_ on the brink of his own release. Yet he slowed to a complete stop, buried to the root and breathing – just breathing – through the abrupt halt on his pleasure.

There was something abstractly tender about that gesture, how Sanji didn’t take Deuce through to the tears and the discomfort that naturally came hand in hand with over-stimulation. A single murmur of a job well done was sighed to his ear, letting him simmer back down from his high.

The only trouble was that Ace now, undoubtedly, was getting restless, watching his partners exchange soft smiles and gentle touches to sweat-speckled skin.

“I think that’s enough of that, don’t you?”

Before he could fully register what the hell was happening, Ace had lunged forwards to strike with bare teeth. His role was slipping, clearly, struggling with himself to maintain the position given to him by Deuce by his own agreement, as he tucked a warm palm to the back of Deuce’s neck and hauled him in for a rough, borderline painful kiss.

He couldn’t fight it; his vision narrowed, his head swam as if his consciousness was receding, and maybe it _was,_ maybe he was going to black out to the sensation of Ace pushing him back against Sanji’s chest, sliding in close to lap at his tongue with a raw, feral groan.

“Ace—” Deuce tried to protest, startled, tired, _still_ impaled on Sani’s cock, and— “Sa-Sanji, that’s—!” He shook between them, caught fast, held tight, spent, sensitive cock pressed to Ace’s thigh that slid in between his own. Teeth, again, came into play, this time Sanji’s, this time fastening to his neck with a hard, hungry suck of lips closing into a kiss.

“That’s what, Deuce?”

His role was donned once more, and strong fingers buried into Deuce’s hips as Sanji rolled into him with a pace that didn’t quite match his almost fevered assault on his neck. Sanji set a steady, languid rhythm again, raising a high, quickly stifled whine of protest because he was _fucked out_ already, he was _so_ sensitive it almost felt _bad,_ that rough drag on his nerves, and Sanji _knew_ it.

“Pull out, Sanji,” Ace demanded before Deuce could come up with something coherent, his tone ragged as his expression – he looked, to Deuce, like he was going to eat him _alive— “_ you’ve made him come, now let’s switch. It’s not like he can take us both at once.”

Deuce’s vision blurred into white static at these words, tensing just the same as Sanji against him. Something they had tried in the past; something that Sanji could do, but Deuce could not - and Ace was here considering it, weighing up their chances, _wanting_ to, if the bitter edge to his words was anything to go by… but ultimately deciding against it.

“Well sorry to disappoint,” Deuce tried to snap, but his sarcasm unfurled into something soft, high, and feeble instead.

The burden of rebuke was silenced, though, in the form of Sanji doing what he was told without question - something rare in itself, and possibly something for them to remember for a later date when the tables turned and the theme changed.

Sanji withdrew as instructed, though not without filling Deuce elsewhere. Long, slender fingers slid between Deuce’s lips before he could do little more than moan under the sensation of the loss, his swollen, overly sensitive walls contracting around nothing and instantly _missing_ Sanji’s unique heat. Those fingers in his mouth curled, pressed, coaxed his jaw down and tongue to poke out into a humiliating display of total submission for Ace’s clear approval.

“Here would be fine, though, wouldn’t it?” Sanji mused, deaf to the choke he raised from Deuce on sliding his fingers back further still, rubbing worryingly close to the base of his tongue, to his still poorly trained gag reflex, “keep him quiet for a while.”

Ah, that _stung_ , and Deuce wanted to protest, but Sanji’s fingers were dangerously far back, and breathing was getting harder what with how Ace rocked up against him, soaked cock dragging exquisitly hard to Deuce’s own.

“Sure,” Ace said roughly, hooking his thumb between Deuce’s lower lip and teeth to _tug_ , to force the pooling saliva there to dribble uselessly down Deuce’s chin, “his mouth, his ears, his nose - wherever you can stuff your dick, Sanji, I’m not picky. Do whatever you like.”

Sanji’s snort ruffled the fine hairs on the back of Deuce’s neck. “Real sexy, Ace.”

It again struck Deuce then - if vaguely - that Ace’s behavior really was reverting back to normal. Taking over; dominating; leading without meaning to, probably, his role sliding away forgotten, the facade harder to maintain the more riled up he got. It had to be taxing - it _had_ to be a lot for him to be putting up with, having that plug sitting snug to his prostate, keeping him teetering but never really smashing his buttons to wring out a breathless, satisfying orgasm.

He wasn’t given long to muse about the state their boyfriend had to be in, though, for Ace growled (and his lip curled into something _wild,_ which did _not_ make Deuce yearn for his teeth at his neck), releasing Deuce’s lip as he did so, “so what’s next Sanji? Or are you just gonna finger his mouth all night?”

It was costing him everything he had, by the look of him - judging by how Ace’s brow furrowed deep, his snarl refused to abate, his forehead beaded with the sweat of hard-fought-for restraint… putting the decision onto Sanji was not one done easily. The _waiting_ he had to endure as Sanji hummed, deliberation potent, taking a moment to stroke the pads of his fingers along Deuce’s tongue to raise a quivering, shaking sigh… it _had_ to be doing something painfully cruel to Ace.

Sanji paused his motion, took the time to slide fiercely hot up the cleft of Deuce’s ass and press against him woefully intimately. Ace’s eyes followed his slow meander over Deuce’s chest with his free hand, leaving Deuce feeling like— like— like a piece of art, maybe, or - even better, _yes_ , - like a fucking piece of bait for a starving animal being dangled above its head.

Displayed.

Showcased.

Sanji’s touch - Ace’s glare - made him feel _wanted_.

… Made him feel hot under his skin, burning through to something more primitive and _personal_ at his core.

That trailing, teasing touch downwards came to a halt at his cock; the tips of Sanji’s fingers brushed light to the base in tandem with the fingers in Deuce’s mouth drawing back, out, pinching the tip of his tongue between forefinger and thumb. Sanji _pulled_ down over his teeth, forcing him to take up some kind of perverse, silent plea for Ace, who Deuce _still_ didn’t have permission to touch back—

A violent start shot through him when Sanji’s fingers closed around the head of his now half-hard cock between himself and Ace, his thumb massaging roughly to the sensitive tip. His moan, though almost lost to the shocked gasp he couldn’t stop, caused Ace’s shoulders to tense, his eyes to narrow - and Deuce wanted to _hide_. Immediately.

“Are you sure you don’t want him here?” Sanji asked lightly over Deuce’s gargled, throaty protest. Ace’s chin lifted questioningly, lidded gaze demanding clarification. “He may be a lazy fuck, but he’s good with his mouth, Ill give him that.”

Speech was impossible like this; all that left Deuce by way of indignant protest was a whine that invited the most condescendingly sweet of kisses to be placed at his shoulder by Sanji.

But Ace, clearly, was not in the mood to tease anymore. Bypassing Deuce completely, he snatched Sanji’s chin up to pull him in closer, kissing him earnestly to a muffled grunt. Sanji’s fingers left Deuce’s tongue to settle almost possessively across his collarbone, pressing there, weighing heavy in the myriad of polarising implications.

With a wet _pop_ on pulling away, Ace breathed, “then have fun with his mouth, sweetheart. Don’t let me stop you.”

 _Perfect - precisely_ what Deuce wanted, what he would have asked for had he been the one calling the shots here. A turn with each; a deep, slow brand of love followed by harder, faster, chasing an end rather than enjoying the journey.

“On your back,” Sanji mouthed to Deuce’s ear, his racing heart palpable to Deuce’s spine, and— _ah_ , Sanji was _nervous_ , and that was _so fucking cute— “_ at the edge of the bed. Ace,” Sanji redirected, giving Deuce no chance to even attempt to ask _why_ , although he was sure he could hazard a guess, “get him a couple of pillows to prop him up.”

“Good choice,” Ace rasped, pleased, cupping Deuce’s jaw and replacing the loss of Sanji's touch with his tongue.

The touch - the sensation - the weight of Ace’s love and hunger all wrapped up into that one searching, desperate kiss had Deuce responding wholly. Against Sanji’s hold he strained; into Ace’s heat he delved, shuddering, warmth spreading throughout his veins. Yet Ace was gone too quickly, his lips sliding deft along Deuce’s cheek to leave him cold when his attention turned to Sanji over Deuce’s shoulder.

“You’re doing so well,” Ace praised through the kiss that reverberated right alongside Deuce’s ear, sending shockwaves of longing through him, “Sanji, _ah, Sanji_ , you’re doing great—love you so much—” a palm, unnoticed, settled at Deuce’s chest, wringing from him a surprised twitch and gasp back against Sanji, “ _both_ of you,” Ace added, his touch splaying wide, accommodating, _claiming_ , “so good—” another kiss, this time one that had Sanji sighing hard through his nose, rocking up against Deuce without thought, “ _so good—”_

Deuce’s forehead hit Ace’s shoulder with a groan, forgetting himself for a moment, forgetting the rule that he _must not initiate contact_ because the praise was like molten gold to his buzzing nerves _—_

“Up,” Sanji commanded, fingers threading into Deuce’s hair at once to tug him back upright, to bring him face to face with Ace yet again as he leaned back, back, so fucking far _back_ and _away_ until Deuce was whining at the loss. Two of the pillows at the head of the bed were snatched up and tossed to them, and Deuce was being guided down wordlessly by Sanji’s firm touch to his shoulder.

The lampshade hanging from the ceiling was just about visible in the low light and absence of Deuce’s glasses when he settled back, unquestioningly guided into position how Sanji wanted him. Again, the tell-tale rip of foil from Ace’s end of the bed spun the promise of what was to come, beckoning a shiver of anticipation from Deuce.

“Head back,” Sanji commanded, and, when Deuce eased himself a little higher up the pillows under his neck and shoulders, he tilted back to catch sight of Sanji standing beside him.

He hadn’t felt the bed dip, hadn’t heard the springs protest, when Sanji had stood. What a sight it was, though, to look up with the barest, most unnecessary of coaxes in the form of Sanji’s fingers at his throat, under his chin, silently asking for his sole and undivided attention. To drink in the sight - to groan, heady, and let his knees drop open in unintentional invite for something that wouldn’t come from his chef - of Sanji’s cock, now rid of the condom, thick and red in his fist mere inches from Deuce’s face.

Oh, how he _wanted_ him. How Deuce’s mind swam with the suddenly desperate _urge_ to choke on Sanji’s length in this position. It was intimate choice to have settled on; it would open him up more than the typical standard stance might find him, surrendering his vulnerability up for Sanji to take and manipulate as he saw fit. Deuce’s throat, stretched back, bared, _defenceless_ , bobbed with his swallow, and although it was hard to tell when upside-down, he was certain he heard Sanji do exactly the same from way above.

“If you find it too much,” Sanji said quietly, not doing anything to keep Deuce’s attention focused on his words when he thumbed over his cockhead, smearing pre-come over himself, “if at any point you feel like you can’t breathe, or you’re choking, then just—”

But his sentence hung incomplete in the air, cut short by Deuce bringing a finger to his own lips to silence Sanji with an almost inaudible _shh_. A smile accompanied, one that was wry and sure, tugging in tighter to the right.

“You’re breaking character,” Deuce breathed, encouraging Sanji in closer with a touch to the back of his thigh, stretching out for him to pull skin over muscle and _flex_ with deliberate intention. “I know what my limits are; I won’t let you exceed them.” When Sanji glanced to Ace, who still hadn’t joined them yet for reasons Deuce couldn’t see, Deuce added, “and I won’t let him, either.”

Sanji’s nod was tiny, was clearly unconvinced, but it was there nevertheless - and Deuce hummed his praise under those questing fingertips.

At his feet he felt Ace crawl in closer at last, felt his heat and his strong, rough hands skimming from ankles to knees to thighs to hips as he settled into position between Deuce’s legs, ready. His patience, something that usually survived far and beyond either of theirs, was fast vanishing, its last remnants sighed high and thin on lining up with Deuce’s entrance.

“Fuck, look at you,” Ace said, his appreciative gaze raking Deuce’s body to accompany his palms gliding over his hips, his waist, “always _so_ ready for me - for _us_. You’re gonna be good and make Sanji come too, aren’t you?” When Deuce nodded as best he could in his position, grasping Sanji’s thighs now like his life depended on it, Ace added, “I hope you’re not expecting us to go slow; I don’t think I _can—”_

“Then _don’t_ —”

Ah, it almost sounded like he was _begging_ for them to ruin him, to ruin themselves _through_ him in the process - Sanji was so close that Deuce could _smell_ his arousal, and fuck, he wanted to get his mouth around him, to draw him in to the root and have his talented hands close tight around his throat, use him as a channel to bind wet about his length—

“D-Don’t stop, don’t think, just—”

His heels dug into the backs of Ace’s thighs, insistent, urging, silently demanding that he stop looking at Sanji because Deuce _knew_ he was looking at Sanji for… permission? _Yes_ , it was permission that Ace was searching for because _that_ was the final piece of his role that he was going to cling to, apparently, and Deuce was going to lose his goddamn fucking mind if Sanji didn’t roll his stupid hips forwards and come down his throat in the next three seconds—

“ _Just get on with it_.”

They didn’t need telling twice.

The time for niceties was gone, had—hell, there hadn’t been a place for them in the first place. A little shake-up in their norm wasn’t enough to threaten their foundations.

And they knew.

And Deuce knew _this_ \- the sensation, the ache, the suffocating flood of visceral _relief_ that came with Ace’s press inside of him, stretching him out again, making his pulse jump and his lungs fill on his deep, shuddering gasp. This was _right_ , and Sanji stroking lovingly along his throat, sharing his soul-deep, body-wracking satisfaction second-hand, made everything better, heightened, set Deuce’s skin _alight_ with need.

Deuce swallowed on Ace bottoming out, pitching him back until his head bumped to Sanji’s thigh, and - _oh, Sanji -_ their chef, so beautiful, mirrored him with an audible swallow of his own. Wasn’t he _adorable_ all of a sudden, worrying about whether this was going to be too much after all - as if they had somehow returned back to the first time they had secured Deuce between them and lavished love to he who stuffed himself with their affections so greedily.

“Sanji,” Ace breathed, beating Deuce to it, calling for him to look up and away from Deuce breathing stark anticipation _so_ close to his painfully hard cock, “ _please_.”

Not what either of them expected, no… but Sanji took it in his stride with a nod.

Deuce didn’t need telling to open his mouth, already slack-jawed and waiting. The position was making blood rush to his head, leaving him feel a little dazed already, but no matter, _no matter_ , it _helped_ in a way. Gave him an edge that he hadn’t considered when lying down.

His heartbeat in his ears seemed intent on deafening him as Ace picked up the pace, settled into something of a rhythm with a harsh, raw groan, and with each second that Sanji hesitated against Deuce’s lips, caught between watching Ace let his instincts dictate his movements, and following the track of his own fingers along tendon, carotid, larynx… Deuce grew fucking impatient.

With a growl he pulled, drawing Sanji into his throat until he had to fight against his gag impulse, and—

And finally, _finally_ , Deuce felt complete.

Sanji, though, seemed to be caught somewhere between impeccably aroused and simply rutting into Deuce’s face, and letting his need to treat his partners _right_ take over. Because this, Deuce supposed too late - this could be construed as _rude_ , as degrading him far beyond what snide comments could, or the casual humiliation that Sanji was so skilled at dishing out when he put his mind to it. This was _using_ him, or would have been had Deuce not been _very_ on board with it and absolutely definitely positively desperate for it.

To illustrate, he sucked hard, punctuating it with a tight, clawing squeeze of Sanji’s ass to tug him in as hard as he could. Held his breath. Let that soaking wet cockhead stuff his throat, strangle him from the inside-out, willingly choke on everything that Sanji could offer him.

_Ruin me._

_Use me._

_Let yourself go_.

“ _Ahh,”_ Ace sighed as he threw his head back, moaning praise to the ceiling in single-minded pleasure, “ _Deuce,_ you f-feel so—” again, a moan; one bordering theatrical, almost blissfully crazed, even, and Deuce was right there with him in mind, silenced by Sanji’s cock in his throat, trapped and stuffed and _loved_ \- “you feel _so fucking good_.”

His nerves _sang_ on impact; his skin fizzled with each slap of balls to ass, of Ace’s cock dragging deliciously hard over his prostate, but he could do nothing more than give himself over to making Sanji come by way of response.

Breathing didn’t come easy; thinking was out of the question. Now, there was only the heat, their combined sighs and groans of pleasure, the thrum of Deuce’s blood pounding in his ears—

“Isn’t he good, Sanji?” Ace panted, one particularly fast snap of his hips impaling Sanji’s cock thick down Deuce’s throat; he fought back the innate urge to choke, tears springing to his squeezed-closed eyes, the mess of saliva and pre-come beading and dribbling down his cheeks— it was _so much—_ “doesn’t he feel—feel amazing?”

Sanji didn’t respond immediately. Though blind to what was happening above him, Deuce felt Sanji relax under his palms a little like he was deflating, his worry leaving him in a gradual spiral to make room for something far more _fun_.

“I’d rather be fucking you, to be honest,” Sanji said, and much to Deuce’s intense delight he sounded _gone_. “Screw having a damn plug in you - I’d rather be the one getting you all worked up.”

But his taunt wouldn’t work. Not now. Not when his body was honest to a fault, betraying just how close he was through minute tremors, his thick thigh muscles tight and trembling, his dick _so_ solid and throbbing against Deuce’s tongue with each slide. Sanji wouldn’t give up this position for anything now; Deuce could _taste_ it in his tang.

Pace unrelenting, palms sliding up to tuck into the pits of Deuce’s knees, Ace snickered, the sound rolling from deep in his chest just as Deuce _loved_. And then suddenly, without warning, he was being bent back, bent in half, down, down, folding at the waist until he was sure he was going to _snap_ \- forced back against Sanji until he spasmed in place, suffocating, eyes rolling back behind lids locked shut. The tears - the mess of drool - both reached his hairline as Deuce swallowed around Sanji’s girth, willing himself not to wretch or cough or, god forbid, _panic._

Mastering himself, his chest seizing with those welcomed, burning stabs of pleasure through pleasure through ceaseless, boiling pleasure, Deuce arched up, spine bowing against the bed. Begging them. Silently pleading for their hands to map his body, temper his ache for their touch and their hunger.

The first to respond, to silence the selfish, was Sanji, bringing the tip of a single finger to dance its mocking steps along the edge of a nipple, deliberately avoiding the stiff bud.

And Deuce _moaned_ around his sheathed length, the pressure in his groin growing fast, building relentlessly and embarrassingly quickly towards an end he had already achieved so easily.

And then—

And then Sanji was leaning forwards—no, Sanji was being _pulled_ forwards, Deuce realised, feeling Ace moving simultaneously with him.

The sound of a kiss - another - soft praise on Ace’s lips, panted, his smile clear in his tone, and—

“Love you, Sanji—”

And then Sanji _jerked_ against Deuce’s lips.

An all too familiar, very clear indicator that he was right at the peak of orgasm, so close, _so_ close he could barely hold back from flooding Deuce’s mouth with himself.

The sliver of a coherent thought slipped through Deuce’s mind; the word _lazy_ ringing faint in Sanji’s condescending tone provoking him into action. He reached up, reached back, the world unfamiliar when upside-down and robbed of sight and positively quivering with his own impending end…

Deuce’s fingertips found Sanji’s sac and cupped it, thumb rubbing sure to the base of his cock.

Pain erupted in his scalp; Sanji’s hands had flown to his hair, fisting it, twisting it tight in his hold to a choked-off sob that Deuce echoed in kind. But he didn’t stop; he didn’t slow down; he hollowed his cheeks, sucking, grinding his head to the edge of the fucking bed and working his jaw, his tongue until he was sure he was going to lose feeling in them—

“ _Fuck, Deuce, fuckfuckfuck—”_

He couldn’t _breathe_ , further hindered when one of Sanji’s hands enclosed painfully _(perfectly)_ tight around his throat—

“Deuce, oh my g-god—”

It was Ace this time, stuttering, his rhythm faltering and falling into feral rutting—

“ _Shit_ , don’t tighten up like that, I’m—I _can’t—”_

Well, neither could he.

Deuce blindly reached for himself, stroking out of sync with Ace’s erratic _slap_ of sweat-drenched skin to his own sheen.

_So close._

His eyes stung with tears; his jaw ached under Sanji’s hold; his entire body screamed for Ace to keep going, to not stop, never stop, fuck him until he was raw and overstimulated and debauched beyond measure.

But there was no way Ace was going to last that long.

It was impressive, really, how in sync his partners were. Right as Sanji stilled against his lips with a ragged sort of whine, Ace’s nails sunk into Deuce’s skin hard enough to draw blood, he was sure, his hips finally rocking into something far gentler through his release. Come flooded Deuce’s throat, completely bypassing his mouth with how deep Sanji had pressed his cock inside (how readily Deuce welcomed the instinctual swallow that followed).

His abdomen clenched. The light-headedness peaked - that (wonderful, satisfying) accompanying symptom of near asphyxiation. The pit of his stomach, so tightly wound, twisted cruelly, wringing a helpless, wet little stutter of breath through the convulsive swallowing of come. His tongue, flat to length and aching and aching; jaws trembled and shook against his will, everything becoming _everything_.

But a hand lifted his from his cock, and for a second he _writhed_ in orgasm denied.

“I’ve got you,” breathed Ace, taking up, taking over, stroking Deuce’s cock with thumb sliding precise over frenulum on each pass, “I’ve got you. You’ve been so good, Deu - let me—”

He let him.

He pulled Sanji flush to his lips, deaf to the protest and numb to the surprised gasp, the press of fingers to jaw to instinctively attempt to alleviate Sanji’s definite impending over-stimulation. Deuce wanted to come like this - to come with the weight of Sanji at the back of his throat, his chin clasped by fingers that shook atop his short, sharp moan on Ace’s final deep, slick, indulgent press into him.

And then those fingers were moving, roaming, trapezing over muscle and bone to settle at Deuce’s nipples and gently _twist_.

It was just too much— too much _too much—_ and they were suddenly holding him steady through his muffled cry of relief. Deuce felt himself come - felt the press of his shoulders back into mattress with Ace’s grind into him, milking his swollen prostate - but it was almost distant, somehow. Like his mind was free-falling through rushing clouds and a sunlit horizon, the thrill of leaping rendering him breathless and shaken.

But now he was sinking down into darkness, the rushing roar of promised syncope pressing tight to his eardrums, his lungs, his mind.

And though he could feel Sanji stepping back and away - though a knee was grasped and his body was now clenching around the loss of Ace’s stretch - Deuce couldn’t find the energy to fight it.

 _Ah,_ was his last lucid thought on his eyes rolling back into a bone-deep sigh, welcoming unconsciousness like an old friend, _they’re going to tease me so much for this._

* * *

Deuce’s assumption of teasing proved totally incorrect, however.

“Why didn’t you tap out?” Was the first thing Sanji snapped at Deuce when he came to. Though indignant irritation was clearly what he was going for, the effect was somewhat lost by how he was carefully patting down Deuce’s chest with a towel.

With half a glance at Ace, who, surprisingly, also looked a little concerned, though decidedly calmer than before, Deuce said, “why would I have wanted to tap out?”

Sanji made a disparaging sound. “Maybe because you passed out?”

“Oh.” The towel was pressed to the curve of his neck, fluffy and soft; it was nice being the one to be looked after for a change. “Fainting’s not that big a deal, though.”

“Sometimes,” Sanji said with a long-suffering sigh, “your dismissive attitude of _but no one died_ really gets on my nerves. And the same goes for you,” he shot at Ace as Ace flashed Deuce a smug grin because Deuce was _never_ the one to get scolded, “you’re no better. When will you both learn to take better care of yourselves?”

The hand clutching the towel was caught and pulled inward, guiding Sanji into a hard, silencing kiss.

“A bit of fainting’s not going to hurt me,” Deuce gently reassured, thumbing circles to the inside of Sanji’s wrist. “That was hot, though,” he diverted when Sanji didn’t look convinced, “you were both really something.”

Sanji huffed, almost laughing, easily dropping the subject in the face of an offering of praise. “Even though Ace managed to forget himself pretty quickly.”

Ace shrugged before taking the towel from Sanji to launch it in the direction of the bedroom door. “You try being cool and coy when you’ve got a plug in your ass and Deuce coming over you,” he said, though he sounded more amused than offended. “It felt _great_ though, having that there – it might have to be a regular from now on.” He stretched, bringing his hands over his head, before pointedly settling draped around Sanji’s shoulders. “You were _mean_ ,” he giggled, nuzzling into Sanji’s neck, “you’re _never_ mean in bed. Guess I gotta drop the Mr. Prince nickname now, huh?”

Ace couldn’t see Sanji’s expression from where he cuddled him, but Deuce could – Ace’s words, though clearly intended as lighter than air and insignificant as a breeze, caused Sanji’s expression to darken, clouding over with something heavy and distressing.

“Only because I told him to,” Deuce said at once, catching Sanji’s eye when he looked up and offering what he hoped was a comforting smile, “and he did really well with it.”

“Yeah,” Ace yawned, sitting up and affectionately drumming his hands to Sanji’s knee, “yeah, you were real good at it.”

When Sanji didn’t reply, though, and opted for simply running a hand through Ace’s wild, unruly mess of post-sex hair, Ace looked up at him at last. Realisation hit him at once, his eyes darting back and forth between Sanji’s downcast own, before looking to Deuce for confirmation. With a tiny, almost imperceptible nod from Deuce, Ace grabbed Sanji’s cheeks and, ignoring his instant protest, butted his forehead to their partner’s.

“On second thought,” Ace said cheerfully, grin bright and wide and genuine, “Mr. Prince has gotta stay. Being mean’s great and hot for a scene or whatever, but I like the real you _loads_ better. That’s why they’re called scenes, right? It’s just an act, babe, Deu doesn’t care about what you said to him, do you Deu?”

Deuce shook his head, leaning into Sanji’s other side. “If anything, you could have got a lot nastier,” he admitted, “although I appreciate how you didn’t comment on my dick size as if we were in some kind of bad porno.”

“It’s ‘cause your meat’s so huge, Deu, there’s no way he could pretend it isn’t—"

“Obviously.”

Sanji snickered, taking Ace’s hands in his own and gently lifting them away from his face.

“It was fun,” Sanji said, and he sounded sincere, “and we should do something like that again.”

Nodding their enthusiastic assent, their conversation was rudely interrupted by Ace’s stomach moaning pitifully for food. He snorted before fixing Sanji with the most dramatic, miserable expression he could possibly muster.

“Sanji,” he whined as pathetically as he could, ignoring the way both Sanji and Deuce heaved matching sighs, “please?”

“Get a bowl of cereal or something,” Sanji said, lacking in the bite that usually accompanied Ace’s requests for his cooking outside of meals, “I’m not making a second dinner for you.”

After Ace dragged himself off the bed following a kiss to both of his partners’ cheeks, Sanji leaned into Deuce and brushed a kiss of his own to his lips.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Sanji asked. “That was kinda more intense than usual.”

“That’s what I wanted,” Deuce reassured, relaxing into Sanji’s touch, “and it was better than I had imagined it would be. Seriously,” he added when Sanji looked mildly surprised, “a _lot_ better.”

After a moment’s pause to consider this, Sanji said, “maybe next time,” tracing the bruise that Deuce knew colored the side of his neck by the dull pulse of pain alone, “we could see how you’d fare as the horrible bastard for the night.”

Deuce hummed in thought, amused by how _taking the lead_ had evolved into _horrible bastard_. “That could be fun.”

“That _would_ be fun.”

“Because I’d be good at it?”

“Because you’d be shit at it.”

Ah.

Well.

Sanji was probably right about that.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to fill [my Tumblr](https://chromiwrites.tumblr.com/) inbox with prompts, nonsense, or anything at all! I love to chat TT
> 
> Comments and kudos let me know if I'm doing something right, and I always love your feedback!


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